Hunted
by FlamingWolf
Summary: Robin is being hunted by the STN, and the hunter is very familiar.
1. Robin

It was hot. That was the worst part about all of it, Robin decided. If it hadn't been so hot, she could have borne anything. She almost laughed at herself as she walked along. She had survived a Tokyo summer in a black dress and bustle, with the occasional trench coat, but she was hot walking down a shaded street in a pair of shorts. A wind picked up, and Robin felt a little better, but her bare feet still sank into the asphalt with every step, the pavement burning her feet. As she glanced back, a line of footprints stretched behind her, melted into the street.  
  
Impatiently, she looked ahead again. Where was that girl? Amber was more than two hours late again, and here Robin was, walking barefoot across town to meet her. Amber was almost worse than Dojima had been!  
  
Why was the wind suddenly so strong? There were no clouds, so it couldn't be an approaching storm. She stopped, lifting the hair off the back of her neck with her arms, momentarily regretting the decision to let it grow. She stretched languidly; then froze as the wind carried a familiar scent to her nose. Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced around herself carefully, her eyes darting down the narrow alleyway to her right.  
  
She was being hunted! She had come to America, and still, they had found her! She didn't see anyone, but then, the best hunter she had ever known would not have been spotted.  
  
She broke into a lope, her feet pounding the pavement in an even rhythm. If she heard an orbo shot, or smelled it, she would truly run. She didn't want to draw attention.  
  
Yet.  
  
She turned her head, glancing out of the corner of her eye. A dark shape turned the corner a street down and moved towards her. A trench coat billowed behind him, and his dark hair blew back from his face.  
  
Robin stifled a scream. In a perverse way, she was glad they had sent a friend, and honored that she should rate Amon's attention.  
  
She also knew she was caught already.  
  
She was not loosing control! If they had felt fire craft in the area, it was tightly controlled, or it was another witch! This was unjustified!  
  
Or was it because of Factory?  
  
She ran desperately, trying to reach the commercial district, where there would be witnesses, where Amon might even be apprehended, while someone took her to a hospital and had her seen to.  
  
In her panic, she saw an obstruction before her, and reacted. The low-hanging tree branch went up in flame, creating a momentary blind, during which she changed direction. A shout went up from behind her: her name. She ignored it.  
  
A warning shot rang out. She ducked, rolled, and came up.  
  
The second shot hit. 


	2. Amon

It was hot. Amon opened his coat a bit, to allow for whatever breeze there might be to cool him. He paused, then glanced around. Wind craft was untraceable by the STN. Amon had hated witches...but what he had discovered in Factory had somehow reconciled him to his craft. Actually, it was very easy to control...and useful. In his last examination, the organization had found no trace of his craft, and the other discovery was that he was of sound mind. He would not be going insane...and thus, he wouldn't become a witch. He felt slightly guilty, but lightly reached out and called a trace of wind, cooling the day down immensly. If he had been anyone else, he would have sighed with relief. He absently let it grow stronger until such time as his trech coat actually felt comfortable. The wond easily cooled the day, and Amon had a feeling that someone would appreciate it. He felt something and stopped, then casually glanced down an alleyway to his right. A dark male sat there, torturing a small puppy. Amon extended his 'craft-sense', and almost reeled, finding a bloodcraft user. The witch was enhancing his craft with the animal's pain. Amon, with a feeling of nausea, pulled out his orbo gun and fired off one quick shot. The witch went down, and Amon called his American contact to inform them to send their men to pick up the witch, noting idly that hunts were getting to be too easy these days. How powerful had the orbo become? He put away his communicator, and stopped, looking towards the other end of the alley. A female figure was silhouetted at the end of the alley, and somehow he had the impression of Robin. Thie figure froze, then broke into a trot, as if she had realized she was late and was attempting to rectify the situation. Amon worked his way out of the alley, and around the block, coming up on the fleeing girl. He stopped for a brief moment, conflicting emotions warring within his consciousness at the sight of his old partner. The gun went back into his pocket, and he tried to catch up with her, tried to get her attention. She turned momentarily, and Amon saw a trapped, panicked expression on her face, that of every witch he had ever hunted, and the tree in front of her went up in flame. Amon threw his arms over his eyes to protect his sight. He opened them to see her ducking down another side street. "Robin! You're loosing control!" He yelled after her. She ignored him, running faster. Another tree burst into flame. He fired a warning shot, which grazed her cheek. She ducked, and a stream of fire came over her shoulder at him. Amon's second shot buried itself in her chest. If she hadn't run, he could have borne anything. Even if she was a witch. 


End file.
